We Are Yours
by typedamon
Summary: AU/DE. Damon Salvatore is a powerful vampire. For centuries, he has stalked the earth, living by nobodies rules but his own. Inadvertently, he has gathered an enormous following, capable enough to give him everything he could ever want...
1. Prologue

FULL SUMMARY: AU/DE. Damon Salvatore is a powerful vampire. For years, he has lived by nobodies rules but his own. Stalking the world, he has inadvertently gathered a following that could grant him the power to achieve everything he'd ever hoped for. Yet the line between doing what one wants, and doing what is right, is a very fine one to tread.

**WE ARE YOURS**

Prologue  
The Nomad

As always, he was surprised at how in-tune to his land his senses were. Despite the fact he was a mere mortal, he knew when the boundary of what was his, and what was everyone else's had been breached. Unfortunately, in recent days, it was something he was growing worryingly accustomed to. Armed with a cross bow, he slunk out into the trees, his brown eyes narrowed in concentration as he listened to what the woodland foliage whispered to him. Almost instantaneously, he was aware of some kind of an intruder. Jaw set, determination blazing across his face, the protector of the forest moved swiftly forward, cross bow at his shoulder, the weight sturdy and familiar.

His ears knew the soft sounds of his areas. Each creak of wood was a like a friend greeting him, welcoming him back to the place he felt most at home. In the chirps and squawks of the birds high up in the trees were familiar to him... yet it was uncharacteristically silent. Surging forward, he realised that there were no questions about it; a predator of the worst kind was around.

His ears picked up on the faintest rustle in the bushes. Tracking the sound, the sandy haired man shouldered the cross bow. The string was pulled back tightly, yet it wasn't loaded with the typical bolts. Instead, a thick wooden stake was inserted in the mechanism, drawn back so that when released, it was strong enough to punch a deep hole into a tree trunk, let alone someone's body. He spun on the spot, locating the pin point location of the trespasser's whereabouts. As the body pelted towards him, leaping impossibly high and fast, Alaric Saltzman stood his ground.

He fired.

The steak plunged deep into the man's abdomen. With an almighty roar, he fell to the floor with an almost comical thump. Forcefully, the fair haired man crunched his boot into the chest of the trespasser. The trespasser sucked in air, his body contracting with pain. "You can't hunt here." Alaric said bluntly, pressing his foot harder into the trespasser's body. As his lips drew back against his teeth to reveal a set of pointed fangs, Alaric felt like rolling his eyes. Every time, they seemed to think that he had no idea what he was up against... despite the fact he had shot them out of the air.

"I didn't come here to hunt!" The vampire's words were drawn from him, a hiss that was three parts pain, one part aggression. This time, Alaric Saltzman did roll his eyes. Sighing heavily, he stepped back from the vampire, and completely surprising the victim he had just punched a hole into, he grabbed his hand, heaving him to his feet.

"Let me guess, you're looking for the Nomad too?"

* * *

A/N: So here is a very very very very very very very very very very very very (you get the idea) short introductory prologue to my next story. I hope it was enough to capture your attention. If not... well then, never mind. Although I would implore you to give it a chance. :D


	2. 1 The Greater Good

FULL SUMMARY: AU/Eventual DE. Damon Salvatore is a powerful vampire. For years, he has lived by nobodies rules but his own. Stalking the world, he has inadvertently gathered a following that could grant him the power to achieve everything he'd ever hoped for. Yet the line between doing what one wants, and doing what is right, is a very fine one to tread.

**WE ARE YOURS**

Chapter One  
THE GREATER GOOD

_Nothing can help you now._

Mercilessly, his fingers dug into flesh, the nails digging through skin and bone, ripping through cartilage. With an almost graceful flicking motion of his wrist, he ripped the man's throat out without even blinking. Gazing at the sticky thick tendrils of blood that dripped steadily down his hands and forearms with an terrifying nonchalance, the vampire casually discarded the gore, dropping the sizeable chunk of skin to the floor before wiping his hands down his black jeans.

A little disgruntled by the fact the mess had ruined such an expensive piece of clothing, Damon Salvatore stepped over the torn up corpse of the man who had dared try to oppose him. It had been a long time since somebody had stood up to him with such courage and bravery, longer still that Damon could actually say that he had been _impressed_ but such a display of nerve and spirit. But still; the man was a human. He was feeble, and he was weak. His life was nothing but a fleeting smudge upon the earth's surface, easily wiped away and inconspicuous enough that it would not be felt, nor would it be missed. In comparison, Damon's life was eternal. It mattered far more than those of the people he cut down.

"Please," a weak and faint whimper gurgled from the lips of a child, their body broken and bent. "Please." The small boy choked again, his blonde head raising from the scarlet washed floor. It was moments such as these, that Damon could appreciate humanity. Though they were fleeting, they never ceased to give up the hopeless battle of life. They wouldn't give in. Damon deviated his course, stepping over to the child and crouching down. In a gesture that was almost tender, he grazed his fingertips across the boy's forehead, pushing back his matted fringe, congealed with blood. Again, it was one of the times that caused his core to tremble. Yes, it was something that nobody could argue against: Damon Salvatore was monstrous. But there seconds that he knew could change the course of his life, those seconds that presented him with a slight chance of redemption.

A small boy, lying twisted and mangled before him, fighting for ever single last breath. With trembling fingers, Damon caught the child's chin, tilting his head back a little so that his cornflower blue eyes clashed painfully with Damon's icy, piercing stare. To grant this boy with a life like his own... it would take away his pain. But to condemn him to a life of crawling through the shadows, even less than scum? A life where he would mentally mature beyond his years, quite literally, only to be trapped in a body that would prove to be a prison... it was not a life at all.

A wheezing breath, followed by a faint wet gurgling sound.

A death rattle.

It seemed that nature was already deciding the child's fate. The death rattle had made itself known, the tell tale sign that somebodies life was ceasing to be. The boy's cornflower blue eyes were wide with pain, his mouth pressed together in a grim line, a permanent wince on his face as he fought back wracking sobs. No, the kindest thing Damon could do for this child now, was to end it faster. Quite simply, the raven haired vampire gave him a small smile before he twisted the boy's head on his shoulders. With a resounding crack that reverberated off of the walls of the grand dance hall, the last living human in the splendid mansion died.

Damon was almost tempted to mourn the loss of a life so young.

But he was collateral damage.

These things... they just happened.

Straightening up back to his full height, Damon Salvatore rolled his shoulders back in their sockets, craning his neck to the left and the right to click the bones. Almost like a switch had been flicked in his brain, Damon strolled from a scene of chaos, utterly unperturbed. _It's all for the greater good,_ he told himself, pushing open the double doors and stepping into the night. _The greater good._

-/-

"So, how many people have come looking for him?" The vampire asked interestedly, his dark eyes keen. Alaric shrugged before pushing through a leafy bush, shrugging off the parts of the plant that had become attached to him. _Too many,_ Alaric thought darkly, although he did not dare utter it out loud. "Is he as bad as they say he is?"

Again, it was another question that Alaric felt uncomfortable asking. By dire circumstances, Alaric had struck up a grudging friendship The Nomad almost seven years ago. They had worked closely together, protecting a place that they had both had ties to. Admittedly, they had failed in their endeavours, but in the haze of battle, they had learnt to trust and count on each other. Slowly, their friendship had become solid. Whilst the Nomad was horrifically ruthless, leaving a trail of blood wherever he went, Alaric had seen the side of him he liked to keep buried - the side that suggested that perhaps there was more humanity to him than he liked others to think. Instead of struggling to fabricate an answer, Alaric merely graced the vampire with an unfathomable shoulder shrug. _Play it safe, Ric. Play it safe._

Sadly, Alaric acknowledged the fact that he was most definitely _not_ playing it safe. Not when he allowed his home, and business, to become over-run by vampires. For some stupid reason, he had invited them into his small establishment, the 'One Stop Rest Spot'. His questionable charity had meant that he was forced to close. For how long, he didn't know. But if it was something he had to do in order to keep tired travellers from being munched on by the rapidly increasing vampire population he was housing, it was something that he'd do.

The One Stop Rest Spot was situated on a winding desolate road that separated the famed Mystic Falls from the nearest neighbouring town. Since he had long been driven away from his home, Alaric had decided to make the most of purchasing land as close as he could get to the place that he loved.

"So, do you really know anything about The Nomad? Or are you just whisking me away to string me up and gut me?" The vampire asked, laughing heartily at his own joke. With an eye roll, Alaric just ignored the creature, continuing on his way through the undergrowth. The road was near. He could feel it in the thinning of the woodland, the creaks of the trees becoming quieter. Just the acknowledgement of the familiarity of his home was enough to calm Alaric. It was his, and nobody knew it better than him. No amount of vampires, no matter their supernatural strength and speed, could beat him on his home ground.

Sometimes, Alaric could almost swear that wherever he stepped, the terrain gave way to him as if it recognised he was it's protector. At one stage, his old power-obsessed friend had said that Alaric ruled the spot. He'd just laughed dryly at his friend - nobody ruled nature. Anybody who tried proved themselves to be foolish.

"We're here." Alaric spoke for the first time since he'd pulled the vampire to his feet. Drawing to a halt before the sprawling building, Alaric felt his features form a loose smile. He was undeniably proud of the establishment he had practically built with his bare hands. Despite the fact that it was new, the architectural style had it looking like a miniature scale version of an old castle from the medieval times, the grey stones forming the outer walls. It looked strong and dependable, like it could withstand any form of siege. So far, it hadn't yet failed him. Striding forward, he pushed open the double doors and entered the lobby.

The internal layout was somewhat unusual. The lobby area resembled a bar with an extensive range of alcoholic beverages on display behind the polished counter top. Alaric had been unable to let his love of liquor slide and therefore had seen fit to let it infect his work. It had proved to be a hit as well, considering all of the people that had stayed at the One Stop had spent most of their time in booths and on bar stools. It was now, as he entered his favourite part of the building, that Alaric realised just what a hit it was with the vampires.

Every single booth was occupied with males and females alike. The low hum of conversation that echoed through the room was a pleasant one to walk into - there was no aggressive ambience, just a peaceful sense of strangers interacting in order to make friends and allies. Although, he noted with his lips pursed together in disapproval, that they had most definitely been helping themselves to food and drink. He had told them to make themselves comfortable, _not_ to make themselves feel at home.

"All these vamps are looking for the Nomad?" The new guy sounded awestruck. Alaric watched him as he hesitantly moved into the space, wide-eyed with wonder as he took in the sheer amount of people that surrounded him. "How?"

It was that one question that Alaric had been asked time and time again, and one that he still couldn't even begin to answer. Usually, the people who had sought Alaric out were trying their hardest to seek favour in the powerful travelling vampire. But these vampires, the ones who had been gathering and accumulating on his land, they were different. There was an earnestness in their eyes as they talked about him like he was some kind of godly presence, an otherworldly devotion that both terrified and fascinated Alaric. There were many possible reasons as to why they were all in search of him, but each of them seemed as unlikely as the next.

"Make yourself comfortable," Alaric told the vampire with a small smile. "But _not_ at home." Without a backward glance, he was ascending the staircase. Rubbing the back of his neck, Alaric took a left turn at the first landing, passed through a door allocated 'Staff Only' and then into his own room. It was in there, that he dived for the only thing he could think of that would help him. Like he had been doing for the past few weeks, he feverishly scrolled through his contacts list, punching in a one line text message:

_WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU?_

_-/-_

As always, his phone chimed at the most inconvenient of times.

With a frustrated groan, he pushed the girl off of him. Surprised, she let out a startled yelp before her naked body fell down the side of the bed, hitting the floor with a thump that Damon would have found most amusing had he not been preoccupied with the furious text message that had flashed across the screen. Scrolling up, Damon almost felt like recording the sound of him snorting with humour and sending it to his friend. For some reason, Alaric Saltzman had desperately been trying to summon him to the borders of Mystic Falls. Although he felt of a pang of guilt every time he ignored his old friend, Damon had been quick to quell it. Mystic Falls had been the home of heartbreak, a place full of people who had done everything in their power to crush his spirit and tear apart his soul.

Sometimes, he had thought they had succeeded. After all, he himself recognised how erratic his mood swings were, how he could go from wanting to tear apart cities with his bare hands to being caught in the moment and making a grave attempt to rescue a boy dying due to his own blood thirstiness. But it was this message that had him completely reconsidering.

Never had a sense of immediate urgency been conveyed through the mere power of technology. It wasn't even that it was written with all capitals. There was just something behind it, a compelling power that had Damon swinging his legs over the sides of the bed and hauling his clothes on.

"Hey!" The reproachful, breathless tone from the other side of the room had him faltering momentarily in his actions. The girl was standing before him, shamelessly undressed, her smudged red lips forming a childish pout. He paused for a moment, his eyes raking over her body as he addressed her appearance. Her hair was brown, not the dark lavish colour that he always wished to see, but a washed out and faded shade that had him thinking it was dyed. Her eyes were brown, but narrowed and inexpressive, framed with false eyelashes and too much make-up. Her skin was tanned, but again, it was a manufactured colour. In the cheap motels yellow lighting, he realised how unappealing he actually found her. "Drunk goggles." He muttered the words under his breath, trying to work out if they were a blessing or a curse.

"Where are you going?" The girl folded her arms, that silly, schoolgirl pout never leaving her face. There was something so unbelievably immature about her voice and facial expressions that made it seem as if she were small child living inside a young adult's body. Rolling his eyes quite visibly at her, Damon let a lazy half smile slide across his face.

"I'm moving on to bigger, better and hotter things than you." It was his matter-of-fact, degrading tone that worked every time, undoing all confidence in the female he had decided to use for the night. As he had expected, the peals of tears began instantly, followed by the reproachful attempts at getting him to take back the remark.

"But you said-"

"I was drunk," he waved a hand at her flippantly, turning his back on her so that he could look in the mirror whilst he buttoned up his shirt. As always, whenever his eyes snagged his own reflection, he smiled. He had a brilliant physique, broad shoulders, but not broad to the extremity where he looked like some sort of hunkering thug. He was muscular, but not in the grotesque "too many steroids" way that people seemed to favour in the present day. No, he was muscle mass was natural, and it was defined. It was the muscle of a real male, the type you'd expect see on a man who didn't work out, but a man who _fought._ His hair, darker than ebony, fell tousled about his face, slightly greasy from the build up of sweat after the night he'd been having. There was no denying it, he was good looking, and he made sure to tell himself just that everyday. He turned on the spot, resuming the rather one-sided conversation he was having with the young woman standing bewildered before him. "You shouldn't trust the drunk speech of a stranger. And with those words of advice, I bid you a fond farewell."

Abruptly, he left the room, collecting his leather jacket as he slid through the door. There was no way in hell he was going to be subject to the wailings of a distraught young woman who was still slightly intoxicated and thought she was in love with a mysterious tall, dark and handsome stranger. He dropped a wad of cash down on the receptionists desk, not even acknowledging the greying middle aged man that stood behind it. Then he was out in the sunlight.

Like it was being illuminated by an individual ray, Damon paused to admire the one, singular love of his life. His beloved blue Camaro was parked neatly on a lonesome corner of the lot. Despite it's age, it was in perfect condition. Frequently, he had met car lovers who had agreed the perfect state it was in was extraordinary, considering the fact that cream leather interior was the original, yet it still looked as if it had just been put together. As always, sitting behind the wheel made him euphoric.

The downer on his brightness, was the acknowledgement of where he was headed. The outskirts of Mystic Falls. He had left that place behind for a reason - yet he was hurtling back there in the same car he had left it in.


	3. 2 Fascination

FULL SUMMARY: AU/Eventual DE. Damon Salvatore is a powerful vampire. For years, he has lived by nobodies rules but his own. Stalking the world, he has inadvertently gathered a following that could grant him the power to achieve everything he'd ever hoped for. Yet the line between doing what one wants, and doing what is right, is a very fine one to tread.

**WE ARE YOURS**

Chapter Two  
FASCINATION

_The dust has only just begun to form._

The man who had so graciously accepted and welcomed each stranger into his business and home was showing every sign of impatience, from the way his left leg bounced beneath the table in the shadows, the fingers of his right hand busily tapping a continuous beat against the surface of the table top, his jaw repeatedly tightening, those broad shoulders stiff and rigid. His eyes frequently strayed to the doors, before returning to stare intently at the clicking hands of the extravagant grandfather clock situated on the opposite side of the room.

All these things, she noted, were signs of anxiety. He was waiting for something.

Or more acurrately... it was someone.

Whilst there was a steady undercurrent of conversation flowing through the room, the girl was reminded of being in a hospital waiting room. The weight of anticipation was choking. It filled the room like hot weather on a day where a cloud blanket covered the sky; it was stifling, oppressive and felt by all. What was most amusing to her, was the way in which everybody attempted to break through the soupy atmosphere of nervous anticipation: meagre small talk. A few times, some of the vampires had actually dared approach her (typically, they were males) to try and begin some kind of conversation. She had caught snippets of the information that had been exchanged throughout the past few days and the questions she knew she would bombarded with were not ones that she would answer, even if she were allowed to. Although, instead of plunging her hands deep into their weak and unsuspecting chests like she wanted to, she just gave them a hard, appraising look before turning away from them.

No, she was fine in the corner. She was fine alone.

She was much older than they. She would not be part of their young and foolish follies.

_No matter, _she thought, relaxing against the stiff back of her chair. _Their time will come soon. _

-/-

"Excuse me?" The girl who approached him hauled Alaric Saltzman out of his reverie. He had been trapped in a haze of memories, reliving the good, the bad and the ugly times that came along with Damon Salvatore's friendship. Sadly, Alaric had realised that his heart was so mixed. Damon was one of the most conflicted beings the universe had to offer. Unfortunately, Alaric had only just been able to remind himself of Damon's horribly warped perception of... well, everything. Damon's moral compass had been out of touch long before they had met. For some reason, the blood thirsty vampire had such a difficult time trying to differentiate "right" from "wrong" that he had altogether done away with trying to figure it out. Instead, he decided to cut down anyone in his path. "Mr Saltzman?"

That soft hesitant voice again plunged Alaric back into a reality that wasn't particularly better than his dark and mismatched past. His home, his business and everything he held dear was hopelessly occupied by vampires, the very creatures he had sworn would never step foot on his land. "Uh, yeah?"

His rather not brilliant answer was due to two things: one, the fog of memories that was still shrouding the parts of his brain that should actually be functioning at the current moment; two, the sheer beauty of the young woman stood before him.

There was an undeniable radiance that seemed to emanate from her like an otherworldly glow. Long dark hair fell in ramrod straight locks down her back and over her shoulders, big brown eyes innocent and blinking hesitantly, her lips tightening before she started to speak again. "I don't want to sound rude at all, but I am speaking on behalf of everyone when I ask if there's anywhere that we can hunt."

Her voice was a sweet melody in his ears, a light an airy tune that appealed to Alaric's heart, contrasting against the dark murmurs that he had been accustomed to hearing from the other vampires within the vicinity. It was that soft, yet clear speech that made him instantly warm to her, and also caused a pang of sympathy to travel through his body. She couldn't have been more than eighteen years old when she was turned into a vampire, condemning her to a life of darkness. As her question circled through Alaric's brain, he realised that there was only really one solution he could come up with. Getting to his feet so he was easily seen amongst his guests, Alaric cleared his throat. These vampires had heightened hearing. It wasn't as if he needed to do anything else to capture their attention. "I understand that you do need somewhere to hunt to stop yourselves from turning-" _Crusty. "-_unhealthy, and I don't normally permit hunting on my land. But if you only slay animals, I have no problem with you drinking the blood that you need in order to sustain yourselves."

There was a ripple of unease throughout the room. Whilst some of the vampires were undoubtedly fine with the predicament, it was evident that some were not. A burly vampire with a thick neck and heavy set shoulders to match was muttering at rapid speed to the thuggish looking brutes that surrounded him. After several moments of what looked to Alaric like in depth consultation, the chunky vampire spoke up. "What's the deal with animal blood? Why can't-"

"Yeah, Ric. What _is _the deal with animal blood? It's _so _much more fun to tear throats out and drain petty humans dry!"

The velvety musical voice plunged the room into silence. All eyes had swivelled, fixated to the double doors. Half concealed in the shadows, the man that they had all so fervently been searching for was smiling maddeningly. Stepping forward, the Nomad revealed himself. He was just as Alaric remembered; the same smooth tongued man, an undeniable presence in any space. He was unlike vampires of the usual calibre. There was some kind of compulsion that surrounded him, drawing all eyes to him. He was a person who silently demanded to be seen, and as expected, was _always_ heard. He moved with such a casual grace, the predatory smoothness of his gait frightening to behold. He was the kind of person that you knew would be able to slip away into vast nothingness with an ill-timed blink of an eye. He was a true hunter. He was Damon Salvatore.

For a moment, Alaric stood, unsure whether he should introduce the man who needed no introduction, or go to his old friend and offer him a companionable hand shake. But he needn't have worried about what to do - it was Damon that approached him. With a smile only tinged with the warmth that Alaric knew was more extensive than Damon let on, they shared a brief embrace. Then the vampire pulled back, and instantly began to dominate the space.

"I hear that you've all been searching for me," Damon began, his tone light hearted. Alaric rolled his eyes when he watched his friend snag onto the bottles of alcohol stored behind the bar. Humming a whimsical tune, the raven haired vampire strutted to the drinks, selecting a tumbler before pouring himself a large glass of his favourite bourbon. He took a sip, smacking his lips dramatically before he resumed his speech. "That's flattering, really, but I would first and foremost like to know _why_ you are all looking for me."

The question drew no answers. Instead of speaking to each other to draw up conclusions, they merely threw each other furtive glances, their faces confused. It seemed like none of them knew the precise reason as to why they had been tracking the vampire who should have been untraceable... And that, of course, posed another question in itself. With a frown, Alaric thought back to any time where he had discussed his friendship with Damon lightly. He had never thrown information like that around casually, not even when he was in a drunk and disorderly state so severe he could barely function. So how was it, these vampires had all been able to find their way to Alaric? What made the whole scenario even more troublesome was the fact that they had found themselves going to the only person, whether it was an inadvertent decision or not, who had the ability to find Damon Salvatore.

"Does nobody want to speak up?" Damon frowned, his gaze swept back and forth across the room, as if he were hoping the awkward silence would amount to nothing other than some laughter, perhaps at his expense, before the explanation was given. However, as seconds crawled into minutes, it became apparent that nobody was going to supply Damon with the answer he needed. It was here, that Alaric cleared his throat, cutting of what he knew would be a stream of profanity and furious words.

"Damon, can you come upstairs so we can talk." It wasn't a question, but a command. As always, that clouded look of distaste at being told what to do, even if it were by a trusted friend infiltrated the icy clear blueness of his eyes. Biting back the urge to laugh straight in Damon's face, Alaric curtly turned and marched up the staircase, confident that Damon would be hot on his heels. As he had predicted, Damon had instantly followed Alaric.

"Do you want to explain what's going on here?" Damon snapped, his arm jerkily pointing back down the corridor in the direction they had come from. Running his fingers through his hair in disbelief, Alaric just mutely shook his head, his eyes telling Damon that he was just as clueless as the rest of them.

"So you've dragged me back to hell's doorstep with some cryptic messages, only to reveal that you haven't got the faintest idea what's happening yourself. Am I here to make sense of this? Alaric, what happened to _you_ always being the one with the brains? I was always under the impression that I was the distinctly better looking muscle."

Alaric exhaled heavily, shaking his head. Just like his appearance had remained exactly the same, apparently Damon's personality had as well. He was, as always, making inappropriate jokes that both put him down and raised him on some kind of pedestal at exactly the same time, using ill humour to gloss over and hide the fact that he was finding something distressing. "Damon, they were drawn to here like flies to shit. I don't think they're going to leave until they get what they came for either. I've been thinking, how is it that they managed to find me, because they knew if they did, that they would reach _you_. Since they've been here, they've barely touched on talking about on their own lives. Their primary concern, has been _you.__" _

All Alaric received in answer to his musings was a irritatingly blank stare with a distinct lack of comprehension. With a snort, Alaric raised a finger, pointing accusingly at his friend. "You said that I was the brains as if it were a joke, but it seems you correct. I _am_ smarter than you." The mutiny in Damon's face had him drawing himself up to full height, ready to defend his insulted intelligence. Again, before the vampire had time to spout a thousand of his own manufactured insults, Alaric breezed on. "Even though we don't know what it is that has lured all these vampires here, there has been one common denominator for the lot of them. _You. _They all want something from you, so perhaps you staying around is the only way that you're going to get a clue about anything."

Silence.

Alaric could practically see the fine machinery of Damon's brain whirring into action beneath his skull. For all he had done to rile Damon up, Alaric could openly admit that he was one of the most intelligent people he knew. It just so happened that the best way to snag Damon's attention, was to insult or surprise him. Usually the latter turned out to be impossible; being an age old vampire, he could predict nearly anything. Regardless of the method he had used, Alaric had appropriately gathered the attention of Damon Salvatore. The vampire had slid easily into his thinking stance: an unnaturally stiff body, limbs hanging uselessly at his sides as his eyes narrowed to thin slits, his jaw locking into place. There, he remained, until eventually he came to a decision.

"Sounds good to me." Then he was gone, flashing from the room the minute the sentence had left his lips. Alaric merely raised his eyebrows, addressing Damon's hasty dismissal with a shake of his head. Things were going to get interesting.

-/-

Damon paused on the bottom step of the staircase, taking a moment to allow his rapidly racing mind to slow down and return to his body. He mentally shook himself, confused as to why he had suddenly become so interested in a room full of people he'd never encountered in his life. It was rare that he became concerned with anyone other than himself, unless they were posing some sort of immediate threat to him. The only with standing exception to that was none other than Alaric Saltzman. Whilst he pushed all of Damon's buttons in the worst ways and stirred every ounce of the irritable part of his nature and spoke with words sodden with sarcasm, was, quite unbelievably, his best friend.

Pushing thoughts of friendship aside, Damon straightened his shoulders and entered the room. It was a strange occurrence for him to be struck dumb, but this was apparently one of those peculiar times... for the minute the sole of his foot brushed against the tacky looking carpet, every head in the room had turned in an eerily synchronised movement. It was so unnatural, it seemed as if it had been a pre-planned decision, yet the way eerie way in which the silence had descended caused him to think otherwise. The immobility and robotic stiffness of the people before him sent a trail of goosebumps skittering down his spine.

Peeved that the strangers had managed to induce a nervous reaction in him, Damon drew himself up to full height, arranging his features in a carefully drawn together mask of coldness. "What?"

The single word had their trance broken. Shiftily, eyes began averting, over animated, boisterous conversations were initiated... all attempts at masking their obvious embarrassment. Sighing internally, Damon forced himself to ignore the mindless babble, instead surveying the room for a quiet, comfortable _solitary_ seat. Unfortunately, his wish for lonesome didn't seem like it would be easily granted. Every place where he could see himself being quite comfortable was occupied. He was going to have to evict someone. After another brief and sweeping glance, he spotted a fairly empty booth in the far side of the room. Only two vampires were sat there. The first, an over exuberant dazzling blonde female; the other, a dark haired, bronze bodied male. Deciding that that was his best bet, Damon strode over to them.

Upon his arrival, it was evident that the blonde was dominant the better part of the conversation. Whilst she appeared to not be saying anything of interest, the male was attentive, listening to her, eyes alert and body leaning forward as if he were hanging on every word. However on catching sight of Damon standing pleasantly beside their booth, the blonde immediately ceased speaking, her green eyes turning large and round as she gazed up at him, lost for words.

"Hello, blonde girl and brunette boy," Damon began, nodding to each of them as if he actually cared. "How are you both today?"

The blonde seemed to be flapping for something to say. She kept opening and closing her jaw, as if she had thought of something to say and then ended up changing her mind. Thankfully, before she had a chance to treat Damon to more her unattractive fish impression, the male saved her. "We're good thanks, man. What about you?"

"Me, I'm fine." Damon flashed them both a smile. "Names?"

"I'm Caroline, and this is Tyler!" The girl, Caroline, gestured across the table to her companion. Tyler gave a half hearted wave of his fingers before busying in himself in taking a long slow mouthful of beer.

"Well, Caroline, Tyler, it's been lovely to meet you, but I'm afraid I need your seats and you'll have to take yourself elsewhere." Damon waited for the moment of outrage from Tyler and for Caroline's glassy green orbs to narrow as she stared at him, affronted. Weirdly, it wasn't the reaction he was granted with. Instead, the one that Damon received was quite the opposite.

Compliantly, both slid out of their seats, smiling. "Of course!" Caroline gushed, a huge and rather idiotic smile spreading across her face. "We'll go find somewhere else!" With that, she scurried away, Tyler trailing after her like a puppy. Frowning, but pleased nonetheless, Damon settled himself into the booth, helping himself to the beer that Tyler had left abandoned. Swigging from the pint glass, Damon had the entire thing finished with seconds. The bitter taste had him grimacing.

"Lucky I bought this over, huh?" Predictably, Alaric had come to rain on Damon's parade. Equally predictably, Damon found himself readily accepting his friends company, for he had saved the day with his exceptional taste in alcoholic beverages. In other words, he had approached Damon with his fingers clutched around the neck of a bottle of Damon's favourite bourbon, and holding two tumblers in his other hand. He dropped into the vacant space opposite Damon and began pouring a healthy measure of the amber liquid. "So how did you manage to snatch such a good seat? They usually get pretty pissed when somebody asks for their place."

Damon shrugged. "They seemed willing to oblige when I asked."

"Interesting..." Alaric raised the tumbler to his lips, taking a drag of the liquid. Damon watched as Alaric's brown eyes strayed thoughtfully around the room. "So what do you think of all of them?"

Damon paused before answering, his fingertips drumming against the table top as he tried to think of an answer. A typical answer would have been that he didn't like them. He wasn't particularly fond of anybody - it took a lot to make him even vaguely bothered by individuals, but his lack of liking the people assembled in the room did not mean that he wasn't intrigued. "I think they're fascinating."

"What's piqued your interest?"

"Is that even a question?" Damon gave his old friend an exaggerated eye roll. It would have been obvious to a child as to why he was so intrigued by the vampires. People didn't travel for miles and behave in such odd mannerisms for no reason. Alaric himself had said when they were upstairs that the only way of finding out was to stay. Sometimes, Alaric just screamed stupidity.

"Well, I have a request." Alaric leant back in his seat, ignoring Damon's rhetoric remark. His brown eyes had grown serious and dark, his voice becoming quieter and more intense. "You know how serious I am about my land. You know what it is to me and why. I didn't pay lightly for it." Damon winced uncomfortably... they had been dark times. "They will not hunt on my land. I won't have it."

"What do you expect me to do about that?"

"Damon, you are one of the most powerful vampires in existence. Everyone knows you, whether by name or reputation. They'll listen to you a hell of a lot more than a person they regard as a mere petty mortal." There should have been humour in his words, for Alaric knew that he was more than just a petty mortal. There was unusual strength and willpower in him. It had been that willpower that had first hauled he and Damon together. It had also been that willpower that was the cause of many fights, as well as the prevention of unnecessary cruelty on Damon's part. Somewhere along the lines of the mismatched and dangerous past, the two had formed an alliance based on the mutual respect they held for each other. Slowly, that alliance expanded into a grudging friendship. With a sigh, Damon acknowledged that to ignore Alaric's request was to ignore their friendship.

Scraping back his chair, he cleared his throat loudly. Instantly, all eyes were on him, alert, unblinking, listening.

"We don't hunt any humans - only animals, if you want to hunt humans, head into Charlottesville or something. You don't cross the boundary into Mystic Falls - that means certain death. You don't kill each other if you get pissed off. Don't piss me off. Don't piss Alaric off. If _any _of these rules are broken, I will rip you limb from limb." The words that came from the dark haired man's lips seemed to suspend in the air. For a moment, it was almost like they were visible, shimmering in the space between the riff-raff and the Nomad. There was a pause where they all appeared to be united in their nerves, before they were all moving with one unified, sweeping gesture. Alaric could only stare, as each and every one of the people sat in the room bobbed their head in one singular nod. Not one person was out of time. Not one pair of eyes were averted from Damon's. They were all attentive, sat ramrod straight, intently waiting on his next words. However, none came. He was stood, struck dumb, his mouth hanging half open as he struggled to understand what was occurring before his very eyes. Slowly, he swivelled on the spot, blue eyes bulging as he stared at Alaric. "Are you seeing what I'm seeing?"

He needn't have whispered. They all would have heard him anyway. Muted by shock, Alaric simply nodded.

Damon's mind was racing. On his travels, he had heard of similar things happening, but on a much smaller scale. Usually, it was on a one-to-one scale, an extreme bond shared between two vampires - the Sire, and the Turned. Sometimes, the bond included some kind of camaraderie, sometimes it was merely the Turned relying on their Sire for direction and guidance, for the Sire had total command.

_Total command. _A tremor ran through Damon's body, a brief skittering spell of excitement that shot through his central nervous system, setting every inch of his body alight with the prospect of opportunity. With an extensive range of vampires at his beck and call, Damon could not only reinforce the status he already had within the vampire community, but also instil fear in those wanting to destroy him. He could tear apart whole towns... even _cities._ The possibilities were endless. The world could be at his fingertips.

But what he needed was a starting point. A place to focus on, to exert his energies on. As his eyes slid around the room, they latched onto a photo taken several years ago, featuring himself and a younger, cleaner shaven Alaric. They were standing outside what was considered the hubbub (or more accurately, the only place that had a vibe fit for anyone who looked like or was younger than fifty) of the small town that had always been his home... until he had been driven away from it. How oddly poetic it would be, to use the place that had jump started his rocky descent to inexplicable madness and power as a starting point for the new generation of his life that was beginning to unfurl. Not only would it be a chance to banish the demons that haunted him, but it would allow him to reclaim a portion of his soul that he never allowed himself to visit: the segment that ached, deeply and horribly, at the loss he had suffered when he had turned, running from Mystic Falls with his tail between his legs like a scalded puppy.

No, they would know him again.

They would quake at his power.

They would fall to their knees at his might.

They would surrender to him.

* * *

A/N: I send a huge apology to the extreme delay of this chapter, I was having internet problems. Again, like the last, it is particularly short (another apology for that - it is definitely not intentional, sometimes in my mind I just see places that it feels right to sign off a chapter, oops!)

My writing in this chapter is a little wishy-washy, I've tried to patch it up but there is only so much of staring at a screen that I can take - lazy of me to not fully fix it, I know but staring at small text on a screen for hours makes my brain cry.

To answer some questions I was asked, yes, Alaric's bizarre link to his land will be explained. Also, the way that their friendship came about will also be fully explored, so you do have that to look forward to!

Finally, thank you for everyone who has favourited, followed, reviewed, or even just read this and given it a chance. You're all fabulous.


	4. 3 A Rose Among Thorns

FULL SUMMARY: AU/Eventual DE. Damon Salvatore is a powerful vampire. For years, he has lived by nobodies rules but his own. Stalking the world, he has inadvertently gathered a following that could grant him the power to achieve everything he'd ever hoped for. Yet the line between doing what one wants, and doing what is right, is a very fine one to tread.

**WE ARE YOURS**

Chapter Two  
A ROSE AMONG THORNS

_The nightmare begins._

Animal blood. It was a musky and somewhat dirty stench that had begun to linger in every crevice of the One Stop Rest Spot. Unfortunately, it was also becoming a permanent fixture in Alaric's nasal passage. Somehow, the smell seemed to be burned into his sense of smell. Every time he breathed, he felt the pain of another animal, bled dry to sustain a creature that should already be dead. It offended Alaric, knowing that the wildlife he had been tirelessly protecting was so cruelly being ripped away by the lecherous vampires he had agreed to house. With each passing day, he regretted his decision more and more.

Damon was becoming a problem. At first, he had taken to sitting in the bar area, observing his "subjects" with a keen, almost scientific, interest. Yet after a week of steady observations, he had began shutting himself away in the room he had chosen as his own. He emerged for small periods of time, usually to take another bottle of his favourite bourbon up the staircase, or to make a quick trip into Charlottesville in order to drink from a poor, unsuspecting human... but it wasn't his unnatural solitude that had Alaric panicking. It was the look that Damon carried around. He walked with a pronounced spring in his step, a superior smirk plastered across his face. He had control over the vampires that seemed to throw themselves at his feet to do their bidding. Well - all but one.

She _did_ socialise. She spoke softly and gently, her face alight with affection no matter whether the person she spoke to was a stranger or not. She was quietly helpful; occasionally Alaric would find her with a mop and soapy water wiping away the tracks of mud and dirt that the messier vampires trod through the building, collecting empty bottles of alcohol and half-full glasses that had been discarded at tables about the bar area. She rarely said anything as such to Alaric, but every time they crossed paths, she would smile. It wasn't the artificial smile that was directed his way by the likes of the other vampires. They seemed to respond mechanically to him, as if they had seriously taken Damon's "don't piss Alaric off" rule to heart, but the brunette girl's offerings of smiles were quite different indeed. There was genuine warmth there, friendliness that was laced with sympathy as she watched Alaric becoming more and more distressed at the state of his home and land.

It so happened, that as Damon breezed through the bar on a Friday night, the small group of vampires that had decided to stay in pursued the Nomad (as usual) across the threshold, flattery words gushing from their lips, begging to be of service. Typically, Damon remained comfortably aloof and ignored any sort of question or compliment directed to him, allowing the double doors to crash shut loudly behind him. Alaric could only sigh and roll his eyes, before he slapped a cloth coated in diluted bleach against the floor, scrubbing at a mark that looked suspiciously like a bloody footprint by the bar counter.

"Need any help?" Despite she had never spoke to Alaric, he could have picked out her voice anyway. It was as light as it was warm and sweet. Looking up, he was greeted with the sight of the brunette's unspeakably pretty face, arranged into an expression that was stuck halfway between sympathy and hesitancy. "I'm Elena."

Finally, Alaric had a name with which he could call the person who was fast becoming his favourite resident. "Thanks, Elena. But I think I've got this sorted."

"Are you sure?" Elena frowned before casting a sweeping glance around the bar. "It seems like something always needs doing in this place." Alaric found a laugh escaping his lips as he caught the traces of sympathy in the girl's soft brown eyes. Never had truer words been spoken, for she was absolutely correct. Since Alaric didn't employ any staff, there had always been something for him to get on with... It had been difficult enough before his residents had become slothful, greedy vampires that had some kind of aversion to clearing up their own messes. Graciously, Alaric stepped back, presenting Elena the bleach soaked cloth and bucket.

"If you could finish up here, I can start on the glasses behind the bar." Elena bobbed her head vigorously before dropping straight to her knees and beginning to scrub heartily at the tiles. As Alaric retreated behind the bar, he observed her from a distance. She was so inordinately different from the riff-raff of creatures that surrounded her, it was almost unbelievable. There was such a show of purity and honesty from her that he could hardly believe that she even was one of them. Never in his wildest dreams could Alaric imagine Elena as a bloodthirsty predator, preying on the weak and powerful alike.

Alaric turned away from her to busy himself with the washing of his glassware. Despite the fact that Damon had always maintained enjoying cleaning was a feminine thing, Alaric had stoutly implored on countless occasions that it was the rhythm of it that he found appealing. He had never been one for just sitting back and waiting for days to roll by. He was a man of action, a guy who always liked to have a plan. Therefore, cleaning suited him perfectly. On the rare occasions Alaric did have nothing to do, he felt a little lost, perplexed by the free time as he wandered aimlessly about his land trying to find something to occupy himself. Always, he found himself falling back into tidying or cleaning.

In the practice of cleaning, there was a certain element of control that Alaric found himself partial to liking - something would only return to it's appropriate place when he approved of it. Vaguely amused by this notion, he half-smiled, shaking his head at himself. It was ridiculous to think that a man of his calibre would hide away behind washing up liquid and yellow marigold gloves in order to provide himself with some familiarity and stability.

"No, I wasn't implying I was stronger than you. I AM stronger than you." The harsh bark of a testosterone fuelled male filled the air, shattering the small screen of peace that Alaric had only just so recently managed to shut himself behind. With a sigh, he quietly placed a tumbler back on it's shelf. Unfortunately, power ploys were becoming things that Alaric was growing familiar with. Arguments had been sparking up between the vampires, but never had they ended with in form of violence. Yet for some reason, Alaric was immersed in an unnatural unease.

"Oh, I beg to differ. I'm older than you." The silky smooth voice of a greasy haired vampire chimed pleasantly out of no-where. Grinding his teeth together, Alaric could only watch as the spark turned into a flame.

"I work out more than you do."

"Yes, but the amount that you work out has nothing to do with your strength. I don't know if you are aware of what your undead, unbreathing status as a vampire means, but in order to grow in muscle mass and strength, your muscles have to rip in order to expand. Ours can not do that, because they heal almost instantaneously."

The wordy reply from the young vampire's opponent did not appear to have been the right thing to say. With an animalistic roar, the young male lurched across the table, making a blind swipe for the throat of his rival. Ready for him, the well-spoken vampire twisted out of his way, his claw like hands gouging into the fleshy forearms of the "strong" vampire. As blood spattered across the once clean wood of the table, Alaric could bear the petty violence no longer. Lunging for his cell phone, Alaric punched in Damon's number.

-0-

"I'm not dealing with this any more!" Alaric pushed through the door that Damon had tried to close on his friend. Rolling his eyes, Damon stepped back, allowing Alaric to enter his bedroom. Damon had spotted him sat across the other side of the lobby, eyes fixed on the double doors. He had been waiting for Damon to get back, and when he had eventually returned, Alaric's brown eyes had turned mutinous. Hoping to ignore an incredibly boring lecture that he just _knew_ was waiting for him, Damon had completely ignored Alaric, sweeping up the stair case to his room. He could have easily used his heightened strength to keep his friend out, but Damon _had_ acknowledged (with an eye roll of course) that Alaric's outbursts tended to provide something useful once in a while.

Damon merely raised an eyebrow as he awaited Alaric's continuation of fury. "Your stupid..." Alaric opened and closed his mouth a few times over as he flailed for a word. Whilst he waited for Alaric to find the appropriate insult, Damon allowed himself to be quietly amused by Alaric Saltzman's unintentional fish impression. "Sycophants!"

Damon's smirk vanished, his forehead creasing slightly at the word. "Sycophants?" In the time that had followed his arrival, he had never thought of them in that way. But when it was said openly, it seemed to be the most fitting title the world had to offer. "Please continue with this riveting instalment."

It seemed that Alaric needed no further encouragement. His face once again turned an unattractive shade of lobster red as he let the steam roll off his tongue. "They just sit around, fighting, ruining my home and business, drinking my alcohol, eating my food, _ruining_ _my land - _and God, Damon, you know what this land is to me and all that was sacrificed for it! You need to set out some kind of hierarchy to stop the useless fighting and give these idiots some purpose!"

_The land... _Damon gazed out of the window beside him to survey the dense tree tops of the forest that spanned out around them, thick and heavy. Usually at this time of year the woodland was drearier, the leaves starting to brown, the trunks becoming twisted and thin as they entered their deadening state before they stood, their dormant remains wavering tiredly throughout the months of snowfall awaiting their time to bloom again. But there no signs of it's growth plundering. Instead, it was positively thriving. Yet it was only now, when Alaric had brought the impending ruination of it to the surface that Damon could notice small problems. It was overcome with an unnatural stillness, almost as if some heavy weight were constricting the natural rippling movement of the leaves. It was almost as if it had inhaled, but had frozen mid-breath, afraid to let out the air. A large intake of breath, held within lungs that were fit to burst. It was as if it were waiting... anticipating something.

Frowning, Damon took a second look at his friend. Recently, it was fair to say that he had definitely had his focus elsewhere and paid next to no attention to Alaric, but things were becoming more obvious. Usually, it took a substantial amount of time before Alaric became impatient and frazzled, but it was clear that he was cracking at the edges. His skin was taking on an almost pallid effect with shadows beginning to build beneath his eyes.

"I'll sort something out," Damon promised, nodding as he spoke. Despite Damon's first bit of genuine assurance since he had arrived, Alaric remained unconvinced, his lips pressed tightly together in a thin line of doubt. "I'm promising you here, Ric. What I have in mind can also aid me in what I've been so engrossed with recently."

Alaric nodded, a look of relief and satisfaction crossing through his expression. He could only offer a slight half smile before he mutely departed from the room, leaving Damon standing alone beside the open window. Damon sighed, rolling his eyes at nobody. Of course, it hadn't been the spoken acknowledgement of a promise that had satisfied Alaric and instilled his faith in Damon, but it had been the mention of achieving something for his own gain through helping Alaric. Usually, he was able to remain aloof and healthily detached from his feelings, even when it was to do with his singular friend, but this was one of the times that Damon found himself rattled. Was it so hard to believe that he'd do something for somebody else, just as a favour, purely out of the goodness of his heart? Yes, it was true that his track record stood against him - he had of course screwed people over more times than he'd bit into a vein, but for his friend? No matter how much he prodded and poked at Alaric's weak points, being the only other person on the earth he had an ounce of respect for, Damon would have backed him up in a second.

Silently, Damon descended the staircase, ready to take on the vampires that awaited him at the bottom.

-0-

Alaric's sudden announcement that the Nomad, or Damon, as he so chummily called him, wanted to speak with them all had caused stirrings of excitement throughout the bar. Everybody was milling around and selecting seats, muttering under their breath, casting fervent glances at the staircase. The room was alight with anticipation.

Elena Gilbert grudgingly followed the only two vampires she had gradually befriended to a booth on the far end of the room. She was ushered into the small space beside the wall by Caroline who was babbling almost incoherently about how she was for some reason entitled to the better view. Thankfully, Elena had figured out if she concentrated really hard on something else, then her mind would drown out Caroline's ceaseless chatter. It just so happened that the thing, or the person, that she became focused on, was Alaric Saltzman.

When she had offered her help to their host that day, she had been surprised by his initial polite decline. The man had spent most of the day moving sluggishly, with an air of being overworked. He appeared to be almost unnaturally tired, even for a human. But if there were anything that her observation skills had taught her, it was that Alaric appeared to be anything but a mere mortal. He took care of his home with utmost dedication. If he wasn't making sure everything was exactly as it should be indoors, he was walking the grounds and the forest surrounding the well landscaped gardens, alone but appearing to be perfectly content. When Elena herself had managed to snatch a few moments to herself and away from the rest of the vampires, she had taken a leisurely walk in the forest.

For some reason, she had been able to feel his presence everywhere. It was a wavering connection, sometimes barely noticeable, but it was there nonetheless. The more she had tried to concentrate on the oddness of the presence of Alaric, the more fleeting it had become. When Elena had casually tried to bring up the presence of another being emanating from the surrounding area to Caroline and Tyler, both had cast her looks of confusion before laughing heartily at her expense. Since that moment, Elena had refrained from mentioning such things to any of her peers.

Elena was perfectly content to sit in silence, occasionally nodding and mechanically saying things at the right times in the hopes that Caroline would believe that she was fully engaged with the rather one-sided conversation, but the minute _he_ stepped into the room, the wave swept through her, the crash dragging her head around to stare at him along with everybody else. In that moment, she understood exactly why Caroline had wanted the better view. Even though Elena's sights of him were partially obscured by Caroline's mane of bright blonde hair, Elena still had no trouble gauging how darkly handsome the man that commanded their attention was.

His sooty black hair was tousled and messy, yet it lay in a way that seemed as if it were simply _supposed_ to be like that, even though it was too wild to ever justify being styled. His black button down shirt fit him in all the right ways, encasing the curves of his muscular arms. The jeans, also black, were a perfect fit, snug, but not so close he looked like one of those emo teenagers who wore their trousers like a second skin. Everything about Damon Salvatore's appearance was nothing short of perfect.

When he began to speak, Elena felt another crushing hit of the incredible compulsion that he exuded. She was unable to tear her eyes away from him, no matter how much she wanted too. "It has come to my attention that certain... events are taking place here that aren't to the tastes of my good friend and your hospitable host," Damon began. A charming smile slid across his expression as he cast a sweeping gaze around the room, banding the vampires as one unified unit. "Had this been my home, I would have been _more_ than willing to allow you to indulge in whatever pastime you pleased, however, this is not my home, and certain rules must be adhered by." The smile had vanished, leaving the Nomad's face cold and aloof.

A trickle of fear skittered down Elena's spinal cord.

Still, she could not look away.

"That is why I am setting in place a hierarchy, in order to achieve a level of status and select some trusted individuals to help Ric and I ensure that the rules we choose are stuck too by everyone in this room." That pleasant smile had returned, yet Elena remained cold all over. "I'd like you all to go outside and form a circle. First two volunteers to stand in the middle."

They moved in a swarm, automatically responding to the request. They were speaking in a hushed buzz, all whispering things to each other as they went. Looking about her, Elena realised that she was the only person who hadn't become caught up with excitement. Like a pebble at sea, she was moving with the tide. She had no choice but to allow herself to be dragged wherever the immense power of the water took her.

An air of expectancy fell of the group, encasing them in a hush. Slowly, the first volunteer stepped out.

-0-

After almost two hours had passed, Damon found himself unquestionably bored by the sparring matches he had continuously set up. Although some of the vampires were undoubtedly more skilled than others, nobody had particularly managed to impress him yet. Alaric had long since retired to his room, leaving Damon alone, slumped in a seat and praying for the ordeal he had created to be finished soon. Just as he was giving in, ready to snap for them all to stop, Damon stiffened in his seat.

He had been blessed with the sight of many females that were easy on the eyes, but none had appealed to him in the way that she did. There was an innocence to her that was so brilliantly obvious. It illuminated her, making her bright and _different_ in the sea of predatory beings. She was walking forward, taking up her position in the circle. She was so small, so slight of frame that Damon could hardly believe that she hadn't tried to turn heel and run, or talk her way out of what was about to happen. The sight that Damon usually associated with someone so beautifully innocent surrounded by a gaggle of bloodthirsty creatures would have been fear. But she showed no signs of worry. She was inexplicably calm, just standing still, waiting for the opposition to enter the circle.

When he did, Damon almost wanted to call off the whole affair. The vampire was huge, somewhat resembling a mountain with muscles the size of Damon's head bulging out of his arms. His face was ruddy, eyes wide and excitable. His beefy hands were clenched into enormous fists. The size of the man in comparison to this small, brunette girl was monumental.

The male vampire began to move toward her, snarling and spitting, his fangs descending from his jaw as he regarded her with an animalistic expression. His huge size should have intimidated her, forced her to move back. But she was unrelenting. The brunette stayed deadly still, her arms folding over her chest whilst she gave the big vampire a level stare, completely unperturbed by his display of physical dominance. Damon angled his body nearer to the action in his seat. She was so composed that it was almost frightening.

When she did not move, it was the male that stepped into her bubble of space. The minute he was within arms-length of her, it was all over. Faster than Damon could blink, the brunette's arms had snapped outwards. Her fingers curled tightly around the vampire's arm. He yelled in surprise as she flipped him over, the sickening crack reverberating through the space. When she stepped back, tilting her head up and brushing her long, heavy hair out of face, the girl looked beside herself. Straight away, she was back on her knees, murmuring something unintelligible into the vampire's ear. Gently, she pulled him to her feet, guiding him to the group of friends that he had emerged from before their battle. After she deposited him with them, she retreated back into the masses, disappearing in the cover of the throng.

The next few fights passed in a blur, with Damon barely watching was happening. All of his thoughts... they were all of her - her olive skin, her willowy, dancer's frame. Those big, indulgent brown eyes; the way that they had transformed from a cool mask of collection before stretching wide in surprise, brimming with sympathy at the sight of the vampire groaning in pain at her feet. She hadn't revelled in her victory the way that the other's had done, but had instead looked heartbroken.

As he led the crowd back indoors, he felt eyes boring into the back of his head. When he turned around to confront the person who's stare was burning holes into his skull, those same, big brown eyes were dark with mutiny.

* * *

A/N: Once again I leave you with endless apologies for my tortoise slow updates - it's heading into exam season for me unfortunately. I also found myself in a potentially dire situation where I had a years worth of coursework that I hadn't done to complete in a matter of days and that demanded my immediate attentions! If you'd like to keep up with me elsewhere, drop me a follow on Twitter (hevharv is the name). Pre-warning, most of what I say isn't always understandable, but whatever. :D

PS, apologies also for the way that this chapter was a bit meh.. I didnt mean to make you wait for this drivel... promise I can do better!

To everyone who favourites, follows, reviews or even displays any remote lack of interest in this, you are god-sent beings of radical brilliance and I bow down to your heavenly light.

Unless you shave your arms.

_-typedamon._


End file.
